


Mist

by goddessofcruelty



Series: Big House [5]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Horses, M/M, brief mention of child abuse, my apologies to people who actually train horses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-13
Updated: 2014-06-13
Packaged: 2018-02-04 11:25:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 953
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1777369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddessofcruelty/pseuds/goddessofcruelty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chris settles the blanket over his shoulder, then returns to petting the filly, stroking along her back and talking to her too low for Derek to hear.</p>
<p>His petting slows until his hand is settled in the center of her back, and he's leaning against her with the blanket covered shoulder. The other hand reaches into his pocket and pulls out a treat, all the while telling her how good she is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mist

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CaliHart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaliHart/gifts).



> Prompt: So I was looking through your Big House series again and I noticed that even though Chris is the horse guy, there isn't much of him interacting with his horses. And since I read the line about Chris and his foals in Derek's Babies, I've wanted to see it so bad. So I wanted to know if you were planning on writing something like that?

“Sh, sh, Misty, settle baby.” Chris' deep voice murmurs softly as he strokes his hand along her back, the filly letting one ear flick back to listen to his voice.

“Well, Misty's not as bad as Brownie, I guess. I would have expected you to go for Cloud or Milk for a white horse though.”

Chris doesn't even look at Derek. Just continues in that same tone of voice.

“Misty isn't white, she's gray. Aren't you, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, pretty sure that's white, old man.”

“I can still kick your ass any day of the week. And her skin is black, which makes her a gray horse. If her skin was pink, she'd be white.”

Derek rolls his eyes, but hands Chris the blanket he's leaning on when the older man reaches his hand out.

Chris settles the blanket over his shoulder, then returns to petting the filly, stroking along her back and talking to her too low for Derek to hear.

His petting slows until his hand is settled in the center of her back, and he's leaning against her with the blanket covered shoulder. The other hand reaches into his pocket and pulls out a treat, all the while telling her how good she is.

Peter is watching from the window above, marveling at the contrast between the soft, gentle handler that Chris is displaying now, and the man who pins him down and has his way with him at night.

Chris gently transfers the light blanket from his shoulder to lay across the horse, while never ceasing the soothing sound of his voice or the gentle stroking reassurance of his hand.

He trots her around the paddock with the blanket without incident. Next comes a leather apron like the ones a smith uses, added the same way.

Her ears flicker back a bit at that, but she accepts it, and he trots her with it, and then gives her more praise, before giving her a handful of the sweet oats he uses as rewards.

Chris takes her into the barn where Derek has her bucket and brush ready.

“How long you going to keep up with the blankets?”

“Til it doesn't faze her anymore,” Chris says softly. “And then we'll move onto the bridle.”

“Training pups is so much easier.”

“But more heartbreaking,” Chris glances sympathetically over at Derek, who shrugs but clenches his jaw a moment.

“Alright, I'm off to the Big House to grab dinner, you coming?”

Chris shakes his head. “Nah, I'll grab something later. Gotta take Brownie through her paces yet. She's hesitating on the jumps, and if I'm going to convince old what'is'name to let me train his show jumpers, I need her to be flawless.”

Derek nods. “I'll make sure Boyd saves ya something.”

“He damned well better or I'll fire him.”

Derek snorts. “And deal with Lydia and Erica? I dare you.”

Chris grins and turns back to the currycomb and brush, chuckling under his breath at what were technically his servants, but actually were his family for all intents and purposes.

There's a light tap at the door, and Chris looks over his shoulder to see his daughter, all smiles.

“Hey, you. Didn't know you were arriving until tomorrow!”

She and Isaac had been off on their honeymoon, taking the Grand Tour that was currently the fashion. (Chris had given them some land, and Peter a lesser title that he purchased from a gambling addicted noble. Isaac was technically Lord Greenburg now.)

“Some sort of unrest, we had to turn back from our last leg. How can I help?”

Chris arches a brow at her. “Brownie needs some jump practice.”

Allison flashes her dimpled smiles and rushes to the Big House to change. By the time she gets back, he's got Mist all squared away, and Brownie is ready.

It takes exactly three minutes for Chris to realize that Brownie isn't having any of the issues she's evidenced day after day while he's taken her through the course.

He has Allison go through it over again.

After the sixth time, Allison brings the mare over and Chris strokes her neck while murmuring to her.

“I think she's fine, dad.” Allison glances over the track, lifts her gloved hand to push some hair out of her way and Chris notes the unusual way that the reins are wrapped around her left hand.

“Interesting way of holding that.”

She glances down and then shrugs, “Remember when I broke my finger falling off Max? I had to adjust the way I held them, and never stopped I guess.”

Chris can't help a chuckle and a headshake. “You're going to have to be the one to show her for me. That okay with you?”

“Absolutely!” She flashes her dimples and then led Brownie inside, rubbing her down, taking good care of her mount as she had been taught.

Chris smiles as he leans against the wall, recalling little Allison in ponytails, stepping on a box to reach her horses' shoulders, fearless next to the massive animal. It fades as he recalls an earlier time, when he was the one on the box, his father's cold voice telling him that he needs to master the best if he was ever going to master himself, pressing that riding crop in his hand and demanding he use it.

Chris shakes his head to bring himself back to the present. Gerard is long since gone, and he's never beaten a horse, no matter how many times he'd had to endure the abuse himself.

Allison finishes and tucks her arm in his with a loving smile, and they head out of the stable and to the kitchens to grab some supper together.


End file.
